


I Write For You, My Sue

by Neylee



Category: Dickinson (TV)
Genre: Austin is still around but they are "living their own lives", Domestic Emily & Sue, F/F, Fluff, It's still kind of awkward sometimes, Love, Set after end of Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29814180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neylee/pseuds/Neylee
Summary: “They say good writing is born of love, not avarice. This is a notion Emily felt deep in her bones. But what if writing, born of love, is used for love? She had never stopped writing for Sue, not once, but Emily realized though fame is fickle, money is golden. Money is independence, freedom, a beautiful little house with wildflowers scattered about the lawn on the farthest edge of the Dickinson property. Money is Sue finally coming home for good.”Or: Sue & Emily living together 3 years after the end of season 2.
Relationships: Austin Dickinson/Jane Humphrey, Emily Dickinson/Susan Gilbert Dickinson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115





	1. This universe holds many words, ours are eternal

The sun shone brightly through the tidy windows, landing softly on Emily’s face and causing her to look up without thinking. She caught a glimpse of Sue rounding the corner just past the orchard; in another minute or two she’d be walking up the short path to their home. Our home, Emily thought, smiling. It had been three years since Sue declared her love for Emily, to Emily, out loud and loaded with commitment. Three years of stolen kisses, whispered promises, love poems sketched on scraps of paper and passed secretly at the breakfast table or during walks to and from church. Three years since Emily decided to do something about her promise: I write for you, my Sue.

They say good writing is born of love, not avarice. This is a notion Emily felt deep in her bones. But what if writing, born of love, is used for love? She had never stopped writing for Sue, not once, but Emily realized though fame is fickle, money is golden. Money is independence, freedom, a beautiful little house with wildflowers scattered about the lawn on the farthest edge of the Dickinson property. Money is Sue finally coming home for good.

Sue pushed open the front door, balancing the water pales gingerly on her shoulders, “I swear to god, Emily, you are getting the water tomorrow!” She said as she placed the buckets on the kitchen floor.

Emily looked up from where she was writing in the front room and pouted slightly. “But I baked bread today! – We really need our own Maggie.”

Sue chuckled softly as she came up behind Emily, placed her hands on her shoulders and leaned in for a quick kiss. “You’re lucky you’re cute and brilliant.”

“Hey, gotta keep these hands well rested…for my writing.”

Sue cocked an eye and smiled. Moving back towards the kitchen she took out a knife and cut into an apple. “So, guess who I ran into this morning?”

Emily put her pencil down and turned towards the kitchen. “Who?”

“Austin and little William was toddling along with him.”

“How was that?”

“I asked him how Jane was doing. He said she was feeling ill last week but doing much better.” Sue hesitated briefly. “He also mentioned a salon he is hosting next weekend that he needs me to attend.”

Though the salons had slowed down considerably since Austin & Sue came to their agreement that “he would live his life and she hers”, there was still the expectation they would keep up appearances publicly. Sue suspected Lavinia knew the truth of the situation and Maggie had definitely picked up on it but nobody ever asked. To the world Sue and Austin were married - though she hadn’t shared a bed with him since she moved to the small home she and Emily now shared.

Sue noticed Emily’s eyes flicker in anger before the poet turned away.

“Darling, it will only be Saturday evening. The moon will be nearly full, I can make my way home at the end of the night.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s still hard.” Emily turned back towards Sue, the anger in her eyes replaced with a tired sadness. Sue closed the distance between them and knelt down in front of her, caressing Emily’s cheek before kissing her softly.

“I know. It isn’t right that I still have to pretend. You know I am yours, always Em.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked deep into her favorite brown eyes. She knew one thing that could always mend a hurting Emily Dickinson.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk in the orchard”.

Sue stood and Emily took her outstretched hand as the beginnings of a smile returned to her face. Emily walked towards the door, always eager, and Sue grabbed a knit blanket as she followed. She wondered to herself if they would ever get used to this. Things are so much better than they were. They don’t have to sneak around, they can love each other fully – openly, but it is still difficult not to flinch when she has to pretend with Austin again. Publishing Emily’s poems gave them freedom but as Sue has experienced all her life there are always limits in this world. Some of them - like death - cannot be fully overcome.

To own a Susan of my own  
Is of Itself a Bliss-  
Whatever Realm I forfeit, Lord  
Continue me in this!  
– Emily Dickinson


	2. I got a fever for you, do you know what it feels like?

Emily lay tucked into the crook of Sue’s neck, feeling her chest rise and fall rhythmically as she slept. Her arm was draped lightly over Sue’s body, her hand gently caressing Sue’s hip where it peaked through the hem of her nightgown. A bright light cast itself through the window and across the room; if it hadn’t been for the lack of golden hues, Emily could’ve mistaken the moon for the rising sun. Emily snuggled her face back into Sue’s neck, inhaling the scent of the woman she loved, resting quietly beneath her, her heart swelling as she drank her in. She couldn’t help but think of how lucky she was, how full and warm and _at home_ she felt with Sue laying next to her.

“Emily, are you awake?” Sue asked, sleep still evident in her voice.

“No,” Emily replied, “I’m totally sleeping like a normal person.”

“I can feel your eyelashes tickling me,” Sue said, smiling and placing a kiss instinctively on the top of Emily’s head.

Emily shifted, cuddling in closer and draping her leg over Sue. “Ok, ok you know I can’t sleep when I am near you. My body is always humming.”

Sue tightened her hold on Emily and gave her a reassuring hug. “I’m not going anywhere, you can rest. You _have_ to rest.”

Emily pushed herself up and leaned on one arm, hovering over Sue. “Rest? I don’t need to rest. I’ll sleep when I’m dead!” Emily concluded triumphantly.

Sue squeezed Emily again. “Oh really?”

“Well, technically, I know Death, and Death has never told me that. But isn’t that what people say?”

Sue couldn’t help smiling up at Emily, _her Emily_. Her mind flashed to how long she had blocked Emily out, to how long she had tried to first control and then deny her feelings. She had ultimately been unable to do that, and now could only think about how much time had been lost. “Well,” Sue continued, curling her fists into either side of Emily’s nightgown collar, “if you’re not tired enough to rest, maybe I should make you..."

* * *

Sue blinked, dazed and confused, at the sun suddenly waking and blinding her. She had no idea how long they had slept, just that Emily’s naked skin gleamed beautifully, exotically with sweat lingering from their early-morning encounter. She moved subtly, trying to extricate her arm from under Emily’s sleeping, finally resting body. Stretching her half-numb, pleasantly tired fingers, Sue smiled again, thinking to herself how happy she was.

“Good morning,” Emily said drunkenly, sleepily, snapping Sue back to the present. “I thought you weren’t tired?” she teased, running her fingers across Emily’s chest, causing the poet to shiver and remember she was naked. “And now we’ve slept practically until noon.”

“I wasn’t. And then I was. Magic!” Emily explained before rolling over and kissing Sue, full of passion and muscle memory.

 _Magic_ , Sue thought.

“What time is it?!” Emily asked, suddenly frantic.

“I don’t actually know,” Sue replied. “But the sun looks like it’s been up for a while. Why?”

“I have so much to write about!” Emily replied, jumping out of bed, still undressed, in search of a pencil.

“The moon was but a chin of gold  
A night or two ago.  
And now she turns her perfect face  
Upon the world below.”  
-Emily Dickinson


	3. Your heart is a flooded field, show me how to get to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my editor and contributor Brigitte_The1FromTheMyths  
> I am new at this but these two have been so fun to write!!

Sue felt the coarse trunk of the apple tree press against her back as Emily captured her lips. Breathlessly she placed a hand on Emily’s chest forcing her to put some distance between them. Emily looked up at her quizzically and for a moment Sue regretted pushing her away, “Em, I reallyyyy have to go and you do too.”

“Ugh!” Emily groaned. “Just a few more minutes.” She leaned in again, catching Sue’s lips briefly.

“Emily, honey you told Lavinia you’d get ready with her. I know she misses having you around. And I have to go get ready for the Salon. Trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do. But at least you’ll have me all to yourself later tonight.”

“I know, I know you’re right,” Emily huffed, backing away from Sue and staring off into the distance.

Sue knew that look - a poem had come to her. After a few moments she slowly approached Emily from behind not wanting to disturb her thoughts. She clasped her arms around her middle, resting her chin on her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “The sooner we go, the sooner you can write down whatever is in your head right now, my love.” Emily twisted around and smiled up at Sue somewhat wickedly.

Giving her a quick kiss she bolted away. “Beat you to the end of the orchard!” Emily exclaimed. Sue rolled her eyes, smirking, as she picked up her skirt and chased the poet.

* * *

Emily burst through the front door of the Dickinson home. Mr. & Mrs. Dickinson, startled, looked up from where they had been seated in the parlor. In a blur Emily ran past them and up the stairs towards her old room.

“Nice to see you too dear,” Mrs. Dickinson called after her.

“Gotta write, Mom!” Emily exclaimed, nearly out of breath.

Mr. Dickinson looked up from the paper and gave his wife a knowing smile. “Good to know some things never change.” They heard her door slam and quiet fell over the house once more. 

* * *

“Oh my god, Em it’s been so weird living here with both you and Austin gone,” Vinnie said as she helped Emily with her corset. “Mom and Dad are giving me real ‘empty nester’ vibes. I might need to start selling my art so I can get out of here too.”

“Yes! Vinnie – independence is the most wonderful thing, minus the more chores part.”

“I’d probably be lonely though; at least you have Sue.”

“Yes, you need to get a Sue.”

“Ugh don’t remind me, my love life has been lacking since Ship left for a shack he bought from my ex!”

Emily turned towards Lavinia and took her hands. “You deserve to find a person who sees every part of you.”

“Thanks Em,” Lavinia said smiling softly back at her. “Ok, help me into my dress! We are going to be more than fashionably late to this Salon and I really wanted to hear the lecture.”

* * *

Emily sipped her brandy, the liquor settling in her stomach and warming her body. She glanced towards the front of the room at the lecturer attempting to focus on what was being said. She did get to write a bit before the Salon but verses kept floating into her mind, conjured in part by her time with Sue in the moonlight early this morning. “We are the only poets, and everyone else is prose.” Ooh that’s good! Emily thought to herself. She looked across the room and Sue locked eyes with her. She was perched next to Austin, gently holding onto his outstretched arm. She stared back at Emily longingly.

Emily’s heart fluttered while simultaneously a pang of jealousy coursed through her. It’s difficult to say if the jealousy is born of this exact moment – locking eyes with Sue while she is standing next to the wrong Dickinson - or if it is born of past traumas. Memories of fevered kisses and conversations cut short. Knowing looks, hiding together in the shadows. Watching her Sue move through everyday life as Austin’s wife. It became too much for Emily, to have Sue right next door but always feeling like she were a million miles away. The moments they shared together were a potent blend of poetry and agony due to their circumstances. She lasted all of two months after Sue declared her love before she realized there had to be a way for more.

Applause brought her back to the present and guests started to mingle or gather their belongings to depart. She glanced up to see Sue slipping away, back towards the library.

Sue enjoyed the lecture - what she had heard of it anyways. She found she had spent half of the evening staring across the room at Emily attempting to figure out what was going on in her beautiful wild mind. Somewhat surprised, she thought to herself that she actually had a nice evening. It was good to catch up with Austin and some of their friends. It was amazing, she thought, how much weight had been lifted from her shoulders now that she knew she would be heading home with the right person at the end of the night, that she and Emily had the luxury of time together, that she didn’t need to feel desperate and frantic and lost. She really does care for Austin but her heart has always been with Emily. Sue kissed Austin’s cheek and headed back towards the library. She knew Emily would follow. The plan was to walk home together after most of the guests had left and Sue could reasonably sneak away without being noticed.

It was getting late and she was looking forward to getting out of her Salon dress. She glanced at the sea of books in front of her. Scanning the works, her eyes landed on her favorite, the green leather-bound volume titled “Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson”. She ran her hand along the spine. _I can’t believe she really did it_ , she thought to herself with a swell of pride before adding _of course she did._ Her mind wandered to the first time Emily had approached her about publishing some of her poems. The idea was sparked in part by the dinner with Louisa – maybe there _was_ a way for them to have the means to be together always. Sue was hesitant at first. With everything that had happened with Sam and the pain it had caused them both she needed to be sure it was what Emily truly wanted.

Sue turned toward the entry to the library, wondering what was taking Emily so long to meet her at the agreed spot. She took a few steps forward, peered into the foyer and saw Emily speaking with her father. They looked deep in conversation, possibly even having a disagreement. Emily looked up briefly, caught Sue’s eyes and issued a subtle, silent apology. They had gotten so good at communicating without words that Sue knew what she was trying to convey.

Emily’s father had a firm grip on her arm. “It’s far too late and the sky is completely overcast, I will walk you back to your home or you can stay in your room and go back in the morning,” he whispered tensely, trying his best to get his point across without drawing attention to them.

“I’m not a child, father! I will be fine by myself.” She wrenched her arm away in frustration. “You literally fell in a hole in broad daylight! What makes it safer for you to walk home after dropping me off!?”

“Emily, don’t be ridiculous! A father worries. This is not a discussion. I have been very patient with you, but there is a line!”

Emily knew she was not going to get out of this and begrudgingly gave up her struggle. She turned one last time and mouthed a silent “I love you” in Sue’s direction before she allowed her father to lead her into the night.

* * *

Sue said goodbye to the remaining guests and helped tidy things up. Her spirits deflated further as she stared out the window at the clouds and mumbled to herself. _So much for the nearly full moon_. She trudged up the stairs and made up the bed in the room across the hall from the one she and Austin once shared. Hattie helped her out of her dress and left her to slip into her nightgown. Sue walked over to the window and peered out at the overcast sky. In the distance she could just barely make out the flicker of a single candle shining through the window of her actual bedroom. She let out a small sigh and whispered _goodnight, darling_ into the darkness, secretly hoping it would make it’s way across the grass and into Emily’s ears. She lingered at the open window a minute more before shutting it quietly and walking over to the bed. She pulled the covers back and felt the cold sheets touch her exposed legs as she got in. She shifted around trying to find a comfortable position. The bed felt far too big as she stared at the ceiling, blinking in the dark. 

Tonight, Emily wouldn’t be the only one unable to find sleep.

"Her heart is fit for _home-_

I – a Sparrow – build there

Sweet of twigs and twine

My perennial nest."

-Emily Dickinson


	4. She's a wild, wild woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait on this chapter! I have a few more already in the works so I should have something additional soon! Thanks to everyone for the kuddos & comments, they are always appreciated.

“You look so sexy when you write,” Emily observed, her eyes keen on Sue in their small library.

Sue felt the red creeping up her neck, hot and curious at the same time. She turned, shyly, towards Emily. “You’re the poet,” Sue teased. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?

Emily stared back at her, thoughtful. “So said the muse.” Emily shrugged as she bit down into an apple.

Sue chuckled as she watched Emily walk out of the room and thought to herself _I will never tire of this_. She found herself thinking back to the time Emily proclaimed they would become great writers together. She could never have dreamed of a world like this with security, independence, _love_ and time. She turned back to the essay she was working on, imploring her brain to re-focus.

* * *

Emily took another bite of her apple as she stared down at the envelope in front of her. It was emblazoned with a red **Robert’s Bros. Publishing** seal. She turned it over a few times, contemplating it, before breaking the seal and unfolding its contents.

_Miss. Dickinson,_

_We are writing to express our congratulations yet again on the success of your first publication. Your selected works have been very well received, truly the most well sold compilation of poetry we have worked on to-date and with an openly female author no less._

_As you are aware there is a high demand for your presence at salons throughout New England. As your publisher, we implore you to reconsider your stance on attending such events. People are very interested in hearing from you themselves and it is unusual for a newly successful author such as yourself to hide away. We feel strongly your participation would increase sales and your cooperation or lack-there-of could impact the viability of a second anthology with us._

_There is a salon happening in Concord on the 20 th of September at which your presence has been requested as a distinguished guest. Miss Alcott will be in attendance and we strongly encourage you to participate. Please respond as soon as you are able so that appropriate arrangements can be made. _

_Cordially,_

_Thomas Niles_

**_Roberts Brothers Publishing -_ ** _Boston_

Emily sighed inwardly, opened the drawer to the desk in their front room and shoved the letter inside. She felt a chill run down her spine, remembering her encounters with Fraser Stearns. Emily wasn’t sure what to do about the increased pressure Thomas had been putting on her to make public appearances. She thought she had made her position on the matter abundantly clear. Her mind wandered back to how she had gotten here.

* * *

_Three years earlier._

_“Nobody would look at you if it wasn’t for me”._

In that moment in the parlor with Sam, Emily had felt certain she was done with the notion of publishing her work. _It’s amazing_ , she had thought later, _after_ , how just a bit of time and a dash of requited love can cause a sudden shift in perspective. She couldn’t have imagined that **same day** Sue would come back to her, that her heart would be full and her world bursting with possibility. The idea to publish wasn’t fully formed right away but the seed had been planted as they lay together in the greenhouse. That day changed everything and in the following months it became clear: she had to do it. But publishing wasn’t about fame. It wasn’t about sharing her work with the world. It _sure as hell_ wasn’t about Sam Bowles. Her writing was for Sue and publishing was about the ember of hope sparked by their new promises to each other.

It was late summer by the time Emily had worked up the nerve, with Sue’s coaxing, to approach Jane Humphrey in town. “Jane, wait up! I’ve been dying to talk to you!”

“Emily, hey what is it?” Jane looked at her somewhat warily.

“Do you recall the time your friend Miss Alcott joined us for dinner?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“I am going to write to her – she is in Concord right?”

“Yes, Concord – but are you sure that is a good idea? Louisa is an important person and you seem to have a way of coming on a bit strong with your words.”

“That is exactly why I **must** speak to her! I need to know EVERYTHING about how she has done what she has done.”

“I thought you were already publishing your poems with Mr. Bowles?”.

“Ugh, no,” Emily rolled her eyes. “I am done with Sam.”

“Just be careful, Emily. Having connected you two this will reflect on me”.

“Don’t worry, Jane. I’ve totally got this.”

“Right, well I’ll see you around. Send my regards to Austin and Sue.”

With that Emily nodded and headed for home, a letter to Lousia May Alcott already forming in her mind.

Fame is a bee.

It has a song—

It has a sting—

Ah, too, it has a wing.

-Emily Dickinson


	5. Make that cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set entirely in the past (before their house was built). It was very interesting researching publishing in the 1850's-1860's and how Louisa May Alcott copyrighted Little Woman. Happy Monday!

_Two years earlier._

Emily, stopped to catch her breath, watching it rise in the crisp fall air as Louisa ran past her. _Why did I think running with her was a good idea?_ She thought to herself.

“Come on, Emily!” Louisa called to her.

“Coming!” Emily called back. “This is such bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

After what felt like several hours they were walking side by side doing what Louisa called a “cool down”. Louisa looked over at Emily. “So, what are you going to do with all that cash when your book is published?”

Emily turned to her new friend. “I am going to build my own house.”

“That’s dope,” Louisa replied.

* * *

The scent of fresh flowers and new grass rushed by Emily, flooding her senses on the train back from Boston. She was so happy to have a colorful _living_ landscape to look at after a long winter. Emily looked down at her satchel, clutching it close to her chest. She could feel the weight of the leather-bound book pressed up against her. She contemplated what she had accomplished and what it all meant. She was holding _her book_ , _her words_ printed and bound neatly inside. She knew exactly who this copy would go to and was working out the inscription in her head.

At that moment George appeared. “Emily? ”

She looked up, startled out of her thoughts. “George, hey!”. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was visiting some friends in Boston. How about you?”

“I had a meeting with my publisher”.

“Wow, really? That’s great, Emily! Is your father ok with that?”

Emily rolled her eyes at George’s charming but annoying deference to her father’s opinions. “We actually worked out the publishing stuff a while ago. He wasn’t thrilled at first but he got over it.”

“Woah, a whole book?! That’s amazing, I can’t wait to read it.”

“I imagine you will be able to purchase a copy in Amherst soon.” Emily clutched her satchel closer, not ready to share it with anyone new yet. “Remember what you said before Austin’s wedding about being our own people and not relying on our fathers?”

George nodded in recognition.

“I’m really doing it, George. My writing, it is going to allow me to be my _own person_. Can I tell you a secret?” He nodded enthusiastically, leaning closer to Emily.

“I’m going to build a house of my own,” she whispered to him.

George stumbled a bit before replying. “I’m really happy for you, Em. Is the book business really that lucrative? Did they give you an advance?”

Emily looked back at George, thinking. “Well it all depends on if it sells,” she shrugged. “I’m confident it will. They did offer me a deal up front but Louisa – remember Jane’s friend from Concord? She works with the same publisher and convinced me the best way to really make money is to keep my rights and get paid that way. It will take a bit longer but should be more lucrative in the end.”

“Interesting! Well, If you ever need company at your new home you know where to find me.”

“Of course, and George – please don’t tell anyone about the house. That is one thing I still have to convince my father of.”

He gestured, pinching his lips together, conveying his agreement to keep Emily’s secret, throwing away the key. “I’m rooting for you.”

Emily nodded back at him with a grateful smile, happy they had found their place with each other. George disappeared into the next car and Emily’s attention drifted back to her thoughts and the scenery passing by.

* * *

Emily lead Sue through the candlelit library in the Evergreens. “Where are you taking me, Em? Can I open my eyes yet?” Sue inquired.

“Almost there! Keep them closed!” Emily positioned Sue so that she would be at eye level with her book. “Ok, go ahead. You can open them.”

Sue opened her eyes, adjusting to the faint light and orienting herself. Immediately she was drawn to the new book positioned between Dickens and Diderot. Her fingers grazed the spine delicately before plucking it off the shelf and examining it intensely. “You really did it, Emily. I am _so_ _proud_ of you.”

Emily stood back, giving Sue a bit of room to take in her discovery. “I know. On the ride back from Boston I could scarcely put it down.”

Sue looked from the green leather-bound book over to the poet. “Is this the only copy you have?”

“Yes, but I have been assured there will be more printed!” Emily replied.

“Em, don’t you want to keep your first copy?”

“My poems have always belonged to you, Sue. I want you to have it. Take a look at page 19.”

“Why 19?” Sue asked, flipping through the pages.

“As in….December 19th?” Emily replied. “Your birthday.”

“My birthday?” Sue asked with a smile, eyes locking with Emily’s over the pages of the book.

“The first day we both existed. Well, on this earth anyways.”

“Emily Dickinson, you never stop ‘poeting’.”

“Well, that is kind of my thing.”

Sue stopped on page 19. Staring back at her was a handwritten inscription surrounding one of her favorite poems. Sue could feel her heart flutter as she took in _her poet’s_ beautiful words:

_Wild nights! Wild nights!_

_Were I with thee,_

_Wild nights should be_

_Our luxury!_

_Futile the winds_

_To a heart in port,—_

_Done with the compass,_

_Done with the chart._

_Rowing in Eden!_

_Ah! the sea!_

_Might I but moor_

_To-night in thee!_

Sue closed the book as she finished reading. “We’ll have to get a different copy for this library.”

“Wait, why?” Emily asked, a bit confused.

“I intend to keep this with me always.”

Emily beamed back at Sue, indicating that was the right thing to say. Sue reached out for her cheek, caressing it lovingly before leaning in for a kiss.

* * *

It was one of those hot summer nights where the breeze scarcely helps. The window was propped open as far as it would go. Emily was sitting at the small desk in her room, staring down at a thick envelope in front of her. She knew exactly what it contained – the first check from her poetry.

“Be careful with that, Emily. You are playing with fire.” Fraser Stearns appealed to her from the corner of the room.

She glanced towards him, no longer startled by his random appearances. “But don’t you see? I don’t care about _fame_ , Fraser. This is about love, freedom… _happiness.”_

_“_ You are meant to be a nobody, Emily. Fame does not consider your intention. Just please, be careful.”

With that he was gone.

* * *

_One year earlier._

Emily stood outside of her father’s study taking slow deep breaths, attempting to calm herself and conjuring up strength. _You got this, you have thought this through - you are a strong independent woman!_ She recited her mantra inspired by Vinnie’s support. She knocked lightly.

“Come in.”

She entered the room and her father looked over at her from the documents he was studying, surprised it was her. “Emily, my dear what are you doing in here?”

“I need to talk to you, father”.

“Can’t this be discussed at dinner?”

“No actually, there’s something I want to speak with you about in private.”

“Ok, come, sit down,” he gestured at the open seat opposite his.

Emily made her way over to her father’s desk, gathered her skirt underneath her and sat down rigidly. She exhaled with a sigh.

“What is it Emily?” Mr. Dickinson asked – a hint of worry in his voice.

Emily looked up at him, meeting his eyes tentatively at first, thinking about where to begin. “I’ve thought a lot about this and I want to move out on my own. I am grown now and need my own space to think and write and _be_. I’ve thought of everything. You know that clearing just past the orchard? It is perfect for a small home, and you know I have always loved the orchard. I have saved enough to pay for it, and I’ve even had plans drawn up. All I need is your approval.” She rattled everything off in one breath.

Emily’s father leaned back in his chair, reached for his pipe and stared back at her, expressionless.

“Father, say something.” Her voice wavered slightly as thoughts of her father saving her tree mixed with his violent reaction to her publishing.

“It’s not often I am rendered speechless but you have done it my girl,” he huffed. “Not only would this bring scandal to the family but you wish to leave us? I have provided EVERYTHING for you! I have given my blessing with your writing! Why are you doing this to me?”

Emily could feel tears stinging in the back of her eyes. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry._ “Father this isn’t about you…”

“No, Emily. Just no. Get out of my study and go help your mother with dinner. Do _something_ a woman should be doing.”

Emily stormed out of the room and up the stairs, slamming her door before finally letting the tears come. A few minutes later she heard her door open and shut softly as Lavinia entered, she kneeled down next to Emily on her bed and began to rub comforting circles on her back.

* * *

The second time Emily approached her father it was different. She was determined and had prepared an ultimatum.

There was no need for a calming breath as Emily burst into her father’s study holding the plans for her… _their_ new home. “I am going to have a house of my own!”

“Emily, we’ve already settled this. You are a woman! You are not married, you will live here with your family. I have made my peace with your publishing but this is on a whole different level. Please be reasonable!”

Emily’s eyes blazed with determination and confidence. “Father, I am my own person and I will do this whether I have your blessing or not. I have the money saved. You can’t stop me. The only question is whether I will be on the other side of the orchard or **much** farther away? It is your choice.”

“Emily…”

She placed the rolled up plans on his desk and walked out of the office, closing the door and leaning back against it. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she felt slightly out of breath.

Emily could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body as she strode quickly across the expanse between the Dickinson home and the Evergreens. She entered through the side door without knocking and found Sue in the kitchen. “Emily, hey…”

Sue was cut off as Emily wordlessly pulled her close and kissed her passionately. Their lips melded together as she poured all of her emotions into the moment. Emily could feel tears trickle down her face, but this time they were born of triumph, excitement and relief. She pulled back, addressing Sue’s confused and now somewhat worried look. “Building will start next month,” Emily said with a smile. Sue’s face lit up as she wiped Emily’s tear-stained cheeks. She walked over to the oven and removed the fowl that had been roasting, not wanting it to overcook. Once confident the house was not going to burn down she grabbed hold of Emily’s hand leading her up the back stairs and into the guest bedroom that had become her own.

She closed the door and turned to face Emily. “This news _must_ be celebrated.”

With one hand she pushed Emily towards the bed. Emily allowed herself to be guided, walking gingerly backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed, buckled and forced her to sit down. She gulped loudly as she looked up, meeting Sue’s intense gaze. Sue gathered her skirt, placing a hand on one of Emily’s strong shoulders as she lifted herself onto the bed and placed her own knees on either side of the Poet. Emily’s hands automatically found Sue’s hips as she captured her lips again. Emily licked into Sue’s mouth hot, hungry and _wanting_. Sue’s hips rolled, pushing into Emily and causing a delicious moan to escape her lips.

“Sue, Sue I’m home – is dinner ready?” Austin shouted from downstairs.

Sue groaned, pushing herself up and off an already disheveled and breathless Emily. Emily’s arms reached out for her. “Nooo, don’t go,” she whined. “Can’t Austin find food for himself?”

Sue let Emily pull her back in as she worked to calm herself and get her bearings. She brushed a few stray hairs out of Emily’s face lovingly. “Baby, Austin may be ok with our arrangement but while I am living here I still have to make sure he is cared for. We’ve talked about this.”

“Ugh, he is so helpless!”

“But, when we have a place of our own, I promise Emily Dickinson, I will be all yours. No interruptions.” Sue leaned down and kissed Emily chastely before backing away and straightening her dress.

“No interruptions.” Emily smiled to herself laying back on the bed as visions of infinite time together danced through her mind.

* * *

That evening Emily walked into her room at the Dickinson homestead. Her head still swimming in thoughts of _their future,_ she almost missed the rolled up plans on her bed. She found a small notecard placed on top. Gently breaking the seal she pulled out its contents.

_“My dear Emily,_

_I have signed off on the plans; the orchard has always been yours. My heart would break were you to move far away from us. Just know you will still be expected to tend to your greenhouse._

_Your loving father,_

_Edward”_

* * *

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -"

\- Emily Dickinson

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)


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